by Mia McAdams
When her fingertips dig into my shoulders and her movements take over, controlling every thrust with finite detail, I feel my own build intensify. “Baby, come with me.”
She releases stuttered breaths. “Wolf,” she whimpers. “I’m going to come.”
The tone behind her words is my undoing, and I take control back, rocking my hips into hers with more demanding thrusts. I bury my face in her neck, tasting the sweat rolling down her skin, before biting into it as she screams with her release. Her tightness clenches around me, over and over, as I pound into her again and again.
With a grunt, my own orgasm erupts into the condom, into her. When the final ounce of me is released, I’m still shaking. I fall on top of her, never wanting to leave her warmth. Her arms and legs are wrapped tightly around me, her breathing fighting against the weight of my body splayed on top of her.
“Holy shit,” I say with a rush of air. “What the fuck was that?” I look down at her, lifting myself to relieve some of my weight.
She bites her lip and releases it quickly before smiling. “I think you liked my song.”
I feel my entire body soften at her words. It forces me to remember what brought us to this point—to the aftermath of the best fucking sex in the world. “I loved it,” I reply before slipping from her and disposing of the condom.
When I return to the bed, Lyric is still lying naked, staring out the window with a thoughtful expression. She said we didn’t need to talk about it, but how can I hold back after that? After she poured her heart out to me in the form of lyrics and after we shared the most intense sex I’ve ever had. I climb onto the bed, wrap my arms around her, and kiss her cheek. Sliding my hand down, I circle the dark peaks of her breasts with my finger, all the while still looking into her eyes. “You’re beautiful. If I say it too much, I’m sorry, but you’re the most beautiful fucking thing.”
When Lyric smiles, it’s always genuine and always starts from her eyes. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
For this next part, I need to look away. I rest my cheek on her chest and tell her the story of my mother.
“My mom was diagnosed with cervical cancer when I was sixteen. I was still in high school and could barely keep up. I was terrified I would lose my mom, fighting with anyone who ever gave me shit about anything. Suspensions were frequent and music was my only outlet. Even as sick as she was, she swore she’d beat the living shit out of me if I didn’t smart up.” I chuckle over the tightness in my chest.
“I listened to her, graduated from high school and then spent every free moment trying to take care of my mom. Still made time for my music, because it was the only thing that kept me from feeling like drowning. My sister helped as much as she could between work and school. She’d take over when I’d have gigs. But my mom kept getting worse.
“Chemo made her miserable. The cancer was spreading. So I stayed at home, took some online classes, but I knew I didn’t want to go the college route. I was cooking, cleaning, taking her to doctor appointments, to the hospital when she’d . . .” I take a breath when my voice catches.
Lyric turns to wrap an arm around me. She rests her cheek on my chest and I find my breathing slow again, enough to continue.
“My father was on the road a lot, but when she started to get worse, he just disappeared. I’d follow his tour online and would know when his time off was, but he never came home. Never even called. I’d see pictures of him all over social media with groupies slung over each arm, half dressed. I died inside thinking my mother might see the same things. My mom was a fucking angel. She never wanted me to feel bad, so she didn’t say a word, but I know she was so hurt, Lyric.”
I take a ragged breath, trying desperately not to get worked up.
“And then she was at the hospital again. Doctors said she was close to death. My dad still never fucking showed up. My mom would always talk to me about the things she wished for me. She’d beg me to make her promises, about how I would treat women . . . that I would choose the one carefully.” My eyes flicker to Lyric who’s tracing light circles on my skin. “And that when I found her she would be it for me. She never said it, but I know she didn’t want me to become my father.
“I made those promises to her. Every single one, but I’ve done a shit job of seeing them through. When she passed, I went straight to the music and buried myself in it. Let it consume me. That’s been my last four years. Sex, alcohol, and rock ’n’ roll. It was therapeutic in a sense. It helped me repress all of it, but I know my mom is probably rolling over in her grave.”
“You make it sound like you’ve been living in sin for four years,” Lyric says gently. “You were mourning your mother’s death. It’s natural to not deal with death right away. I can’t imagine losing someone so close to me, but I don't think it’s something you ever fully heal from. You’re going to make mistakes, Wolf. It’s never too late to make better decisions.”
My sweet Lyric. So optimistic. I lean in to kiss her again. If anything can illuminate the darkness, it’s the feelings I have for Lyric. “I wrote something, too.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Can I read it?”
I take a deep breath and reach for my notebook under the bed. I flip it open in front of her until it lands on the last page I wrote in. My eyes are on her as my heart beats wildly in my chest, watching her reactions to my lyrics about my new favorite subject. Her.
Free Me
My soul is dark, so dark and deadly
Twisted, angry, misunderstood
Don’t get too close, you’re not ready
It’s all consuming and you’re too good
It’s deep, this well I’ve fallen into
I’m caught with dirt beneath my nails
I dug the hole myself
But I’m trying to climb, until I realize
You’re not mine
Free me, free me
Give me a reason to climb
Free me, free me
I want to make you mine
Free me, free me
You’re the only light
Darkness is cold, so cold and lonely
Blanketing me with nothing
Except hollowed hopes and shattered dreams
Your light is all the reason to sing
Free me, free me
Give me a reason to climb
Free me, free me
I want to make you mine
Free me, free me
You’re the only light
There are tears in her eyes when she’s done reading, and she shifts so she’s above me, straddling my body and looking down at me with a wicked gleam. My dick grows at the sight—her curvy body showcased with the light from the window filtering in through the cracks in the blinds. Dust specks float beneath the light, but they might as well be flecks of glitter. She’s a fucking angel. My angel.
I reach for her waist, but she shakes her head slowly. She places my hands near my head, her breasts dangling near my mouth. I taste one in passing, causing her to smile. I lift my head and place my folded hands behind it. “You’re up to something,” I say with a smile.
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she runs the tips of her fingers down my arms, chest, and stomach. Her eyes flicker to mine before she leans down and presses her lips directly above my heart. I swear when she does that it, it blooms in my chest. All my heart needed was the right ingredients to bring me back to life. Lyric is my light, my water, my soil, my sun. My eyes graze over her, appreciating her. I sigh. She’s my everything.
She reaches over to my drawer, grabs another condom, and rolls it over my cock. All the while, I’m consumed by the confidence and blinding beauty in her movements.
When she lifts up onto her knees and rubs herself, I move my arms to help her out but put them back when she shoots me a look that’s playfully fierce. “Hands behind your head.”
I grin, happy to obey. She dips a finger into herself, causing a groan to escape from deep within me. I fucking love when she does that.
/>
She positions her body above me and sinks down, her head falling back, sighing at the fullness. I'll need all my concentration if I’m going to last with that sight in front of me. She begins to move, her hands pressing against my chest, her back arching at just the right moments, her breasts full and begging to be touched.
When the first bead of sweat rolls down her forehead, I don’t know what comes over me, but I have the distinct desire to tell her I love her. But since it's quite possibly motivated by her bouncing tits and come-face, I hold back. I do, however, begin to feel a voracious, mind-shattering force taking over my entire body before it numbs me helpless. It’s followed by a rush of adrenaline as we come together, moaning and silently screaming each other’s names.
Lyric
Aragon Ballroom in Chicago is my favorite venue. My dad moved us to the area when I was twelve. It was the first place, besides the tour bus, I remember calling home. He had purchased a condo in Chicago, and while he still did light traveling to record songs and attend events, he was spending time with me. He’d perform at local venues regularly to keep busy, and when he wasn’t performing, we’d attend other shows at the Aragon. I quickly became well-acquainted with the venue, traveling bands, and staff. It was my home. They were my family.
It’s late morning when we arrive at the venue. The familiar brick exterior brings back nostalgic feelings of a time that was pure happiness. When my father took a break from life on the road and made me a priority. For three years, to be exact. At least he tried. It’s more than I can ever give my mom credit for.
There’s a line as everyone eagerly makes their way to the front of the tour bus. Everyone’s hungry and stiff from the overnight ride. Wolf and I are last in line, our distance a safe few feet from each other so no one suspects that we spent the entire night having quiet, intense sex.
Rory holds the door for us while Crawley and Rex have a heated discussion on the curb. Wolf surprises me by holding me back, then signals to Rory to close the door. I laugh, trying to figure out what’s going on.
Once we’re alone, Wolf turns me around and pulls me into his arms, slamming his mouth against mine. I instinctively mold myself to his body, turned on by the urgency behind his kiss. It feels like he’s about to swallow me, the way his tongue sweeps in and glides seductively over mine. I groan into his mouth and tighten my grip at his sides before slipping my hands beneath his shirt and up his bare stomach. God, I could run my tongue along these ridges all day long.
For the past week we’ve managed to keep our hands off each other—except for in private. The moment the guys go to sleep every night, I slip out of my bunk and into Wolf’s waiting arms. And during our hotel stays, we only check into one room. We’ve also limited our club nights, preferring our time alone. Restraint becomes more difficult every single day because it physically hurts to be near Wolf without being able to pounce on him. Moments alone feel stolen, like we’re on borrowed time . . . like now.
He scoops me up and sits down on the couch, placing my legs on either side of him. I press into him, wanting desperately to release the hungry beast in his pants. It’s not enough that the friction of his jeans grating against my sex is eliciting my heavy pants. We should be naked. Now. I want nothing more than to ride him just like this so he can peer up at me while I take control. I love the way Wolf looks at me when I’m on top. Like I’m both angel and devil. Pleasing him and torturing him with every movement.
He takes his mouth from mine and brings slow suction to my neck in a way that always escalates my heart rate until I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.
“I want you. Now,” I moan.
He growls before biting down and pressing my hips onto his lap, helping me feel more of him.
“Wolf,” I whine. “Fuck me.”
His mouth comes off my neck, and he examines my dress for a second before slipping a finger under the material and landing on my clit. He rubs it through my underwear, caressing my heat like he’s consoling it after a bad day. He watches my face morph from need to pleasure and smiles wickedly. “Not now, baby. I have plans for you later.” He removes his finger and smooths out my dress.
When he lifts me from him and places me on my feet, I’m all glares. “Seriously?” My hands land on my hips. “After all that, you’re turning me down?”
“Babe,” he says with a laugh, standing and pulling me toward him again. I don’t want to shiver in his hold, but my resolve is shot after his rejection. “Work, remember?”
He’s throwing my words back at me. I guess I rejected him in his dressing room last night before he was about to go on stage. I pout. But to my defense, I didn't want to be responsible for thousands of enraged fans as they waited for his howl. But he’s not supposed to be the one reminding me that we need to be focused on the job. He’s supposed to throw me over his shoulder and drag me to his room, caveman style, and make me forget everything except how awesome his body fits with mine.
My anger drains when I glance into his soft, caramel eyes. I want to melt into them, even if that means becoming a sticky, gooey, messy blob of sugar. I can do that. Only for Wolf. “What plans do you have, exactly?” I ask. Because whatever he has in mind might make me feel a little better.
“Well . . .” He sweeps a lock of hair over my shoulder and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I recall promising you a date. So you’re mine tonight before I go on stage.”
I sigh. “You know I have to work before you go on stage.”
He smiles. “I’ve taken care of that. You’re off duty tonight. All you need to worry about is wearing some fuck-hot heels. I don’t even care what you wear above them because as soon as we’re done with dinner, all you’ll be wearing are those shoes when I fuck you senseless against the wall.”
Holy shit.
“Sounds like a romantic date,” I say with a wiggle of my shoulders.
His mouth twists up in a grin. “Baby, after you see what I have planned for tonight, you’ll have a new definition of romance.”
I laugh at his promise. “Can’t wait.”
We step off the bus together to face Crawley waiting with his arms crossed. Rex is behind him, looking annoyed, which I get the distinct feeling isn’t aimed at us.
“What were you two doing?” Crawley asks, his tone accusing.
“Business, Crawley,” Wolf answers casually.
With a shake of his head, it seems as if Crawley’s about to let whatever’s bunched up his panties go. Wishful hoping on my part, I guess. “If you two think you’re fooling anyone on this bus, I’d like to be the first to tell you you’re not.”
“Okay, great. Thanks, Crawley.” Wolf pulls me toward the back entrance of the venue before Crawley can say another word. He’s radiating some kind of heat, and I can tell he’s pissed by the confrontation.
“Just ignore him,” I say with a squeeze of my hand. “He’s not used to seeing you with anyone. Give him time to get over it. He will.” As I’m saying this, I’m not so sure.
Wolf narrows his eyes. I think he’s about to argue with me, but then his lips curl up in a smile and he leans in to kiss me. Crawley walks through the door and I can sense him debating whether or not to stop us. When he finally breezes by, uttering curse words under his breath, our laughter breaks up our lip-lock.
“I’m glad Crawley said something,” Wolf murmurs into my neck. “Now there’s nothing stopping me from making you scream the next time I fuck you on that bus.”
Shit. Every time Wolf and I have had sex, it’s been gentle and full of exploration. Always intense. It’s been perfect. But now, I can’t help but imagine his rough hands on me as he presses me against the wall and drills into me like a jackhammer.
He squeezes my ass and runs toward the stage with a huge grin spread across his face.
I call for a car and head to the hotel before the band is finished with their sound check. Everyone’s checked in by the time they arrive. I stand there with the keys, handing them over to each person, as alwa
ys.
Wolf approaches last, winking at me.
“One keycard for the rock god, Wolf,” I say and reach my hand out with a bat of my eyelashes.
He pulls me to him with a grin, causing others to turn and stare. A rush of excitement licks through me at our public display. Wolf meant it when he said he was glad everyone knew about us. He’s done hiding it. “Thanks, babe. I’ll come get you at your room at five, okay? I have some things I need to do before we leave.”
I try to ignore my disappointment. Wolf and I have been sharing a hotel room since last week. I wasn’t planning to get my own. “Okay, I’ll text you my room number.”
He kisses me on the cheek and takes off for the elevator after Derrick and Hedge. That was strange. Wolf never misses an opportunity to trap me in an elevator. I shrug it off, check into my room, and jump into the shower. Maybe having my own room is a good thing. I can take as long as I want in here without being mauled by Wolf’s sexy hands.
Three new text messages are waiting for me when I'm done in the shower. Still wrapped in my towel, I lay on my bed to go through them.
12:32 PM Asshole: Hey, baby girl. Just writing to say I miss you.
I laugh at the name I programmed for Tony in my phone. Is he for real?
12:46 PM Asshole: I fucked up. I’m going to make this right.
Oh, hell no you won’t.
I block his number. The next message is from Wolf, asking for my room number. I quickly reply and put all thought into preparing for our date.
At five on the dot, I’m in my short, flower-print skirt and light, faded jean jacket when the knock sounds at my door. Even after spending every day of the past week with Wolf, the little flutters still come alive in my chest at the thought of him. I open the door. And the sight of him. Holy shit.
He’s standing there dressed in ripped jeans, a thin white V-neck shirt, and a navy blazer with the sleeves rolled over. Wolf is out-of-this-world good-looking, and even more so when he smiles at me like he is now.
